


suck it and see

by heartcutout



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Canon Divergence, Fix It Fic, IT: Chapter Two, eddie lives fucker, fuck it ill do it myself, no angst just fluff we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 09:33:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20562113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartcutout/pseuds/heartcutout
Summary: ❝suck it and see❞a british expression used to suggest that the only way to know if something will work or be suitable is to try it.━━━━━━━━━━━━━━“There you go.” He finishes tinkering with Richie’s glasses and sets the screwdriver down in his lap. Instead of handing them to him, he tilts Richie’s head upwards and tenderly brushes back one of his curls. Richie’s eyes crinkle as Eddie slides the specs onto his face slowly, and gives them a quick once-over. It’s really goofy and endearing and it takes Eddie everything he has not to kiss him again, right there.





	suck it and see

**Author's Note:**

> STORY TIME: andy muschietti ROBBED me on friday night at GUNPOINT (NOT CLICKBAIT)?????

Eddie is kind of high off of adrenaline, and once he sees that Richie is okay, and that he’s alive and breathing — thank fuck — he makes a choice in that split second. He’s already practically straddling him, so it takes almost nothing for him to lean forward very quickly, bow his head and press a very soft, chaste, closemouthed kiss to Richie’s lips: this alone seems to rather violently pull Richie from his reverie. His eyes go very wide — comically so — and Eddie feels drunk off of the spontaneity of it all, would probably laugh at it maybe a little too frantically if one of It’s huge appendages didn’t come down swinging at that very moment, missing him and Richie by what? Inches? Centimeters? He’s good at stats, risks, knows coincidences don’t really happen in the real world, so when he stares at the empty space beside him and sees just how narrowly he had dodged being speared through the chest, he’s a little speechless to say the least. He dozily blinks once, twice, and then Richie whose mind seems to have been racing at a mile a minute is snapped into action once more. He leaps up, grabs Eddie’s arm and tugs him upwards too, towards where the rest of the losers are. Once they have It surrounded, and he feels as though he can breathe a little better with every insult hurled at It and every feeble rebuttal it croaks out, he lets go of Eddie’s arm. Eddie almost opens his mouth to protest but closes it again when Richie’s palm meets his, and he intertwines their fingers clumsily. It’s an action so stupid and open and vulnerable it seems more reminscent of them as teenagers than it does as adults but still, Eddie gives Richie’s had a reassuring squeeze and then turns his attention back to It. Even long after they’ve left Neibolt he doesn’t let go.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Eddie is kind of jittering with anxiety, his early exhibited courage fading away with the hazy afternoon sunlight of September. They’re all sat on a shallow bank in the quarry, and he honestly doesn’t quite remember how they got there. Things piece themselves together in brief flashes. He thinks about It, about Mike tearing out It’s heart and them all crushing it, about Neibolt crumbling to dust, about Richie. _Richie._ Richie hasn’t said anything since they’d left. Neither had anyone else really, but he can’t help but feel as though something is wrong; as though he did something _wrong._ They should be celebrating, right? It was gone, and they’d made it out alive. But instead Richie was just sat there looking down at his lap, looking so small and so deflated without his glasses on and Eddie’s only really seen him like this once before and— _oh god,_ he really wants to cry now. He thinks about Richie swearing to him that he’s braver than he thinks and he wants to even harder. The atmosphere is so tense and strained and if someone doesnt say something now he’s going to lose his mind.

Richie is trying to steady his breathing but he chokes and coughs and splutters and then an ugly sob is tearing its way out of his throat, of its own free will. He balls his hands into fists and presses them to his eyes and _god._ He loses it. His whole body shakes as he cries silently, he’s only half aware of people that come to surround him. There’s a hand on his knee and a head on his shoulder and everyone is being so nice to him it only makes him cry harder. He peels his hands from his face and sees Eddie swaying about a foot or two in front of him looking crumpled and disheveled and like he’s about to cave in on himself. He’s crying too, harder than Richie is now, and is saying “I’m sorry, Richie,” over and over until the words sound foreign to his ears and fuck. Eddie is so clueless it makes Richie’s heart break. He detaches himself from the other losers with a sniff and takes a wades towards Eddie before launching them both into a hug. It’s unexpected and suffocating and it takes Eddie everything to not fall back on his ass but Richie is here, burrowing his head into the crook of his neck and shaking and muttering and—

“—Shut the fuck up, Eddie,” he croaks. “Please just shut— just stop apologizing— fuck.” He feels him chuckle morosely, his sadness muffled by the soft cotton of Eddie’s shirt.

Eddie very slowly, like clockwork wraps his arms around Richie too and because he’s Eddie Kaspbrak fights the urge to say “I’m sorry,” once more, as if he operates on autopilot. He just settles for squeezing Richie even tighter, as if he could be yanked away at any moment.

“I saw you,” he begins, barely a whisper “I saw you in the deadlights. I saw that thing go through your chest and I was so— I was so fucking scared. And then we were there and we were okay and you kissed me and I thought ‘Fuck. _This_ is what I’ve been missing for the last 27 years.’ And then that thing came down again and I—.” 

“Richie, it’s okay.”

“It’s no— it’s not okay. It barely missed you. I didn’t know if It was playing a trick or…” He lets go, scrubs at his eyes, and then turns to meet Eddie’s. “I can’t lose you again, Eddie.”

“You never lost me to begin with.” He replies, after a moment, barely louder than a whisper. And he believes it. Sure, in these 27 years he'd forgotten Richie’s face and Richie’s name but never _him._ Richie felt like home, he always has and Eddie can’t believe it took the most miserable years of his life for him to realize that. At this, Richie smiles. It's nowhere near the beaming one he’s used to seeing, but shy. _Bashful,_ almost. He’s still shaking and he looks like a mess, they all do, soaked from the knees-down and still smelling of Neibolt and the sewers but Eddie really thinks they’ll be okay.

Richie tilts his head a little. “Can I, um,” and Eddie nods, perhaps a little too vigorously. Richie leans into him and—

—Bill clears his throat a little too abruptly. They both turn to look at him and the rest of the losers who are looking mildly amused to say the very least. Everyone’s quiet for a moment and then—

“You fucking _cockblock,_ Bill.” Richie erupts, splashing in his direction. Eddie tries not to grin, but he can’t help it, nor can he fight the blush creeping up his neck. He watches his friends erupt into a fight, all of them splashing and tackling one another and laughs to himself. He loves them all _so much._

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Eddie kind of feels like the world is starting to make sense again. No killer clowns, no aspirator, no Myra either. Just him and Richie, sat on the bed next to each other, legs just touching. They’d all gone back to the inn after, ready to pack up and hit the road tomorrow and everyone had already gone to bed so it was just him, and Richie, like always. 

“There you go.” He finishes tinkering with Richie’s glasses and sets the screwdriver down in his lap. Instead of handing them to him, he tilts Richie’s head upwards and tenderly brushes back one of his curls. Richie’s eyes crinkle as Eddie slides the specs onto his face slowly, and gives them a quick once-over. It’s really goofy and endearing and it takes Eddie everything he has not to kiss him again, right there.

And then, barely a whisper:

“Thanks Eds,” he adjusts them a little bit. “‘Can finally see straight again.” A smile. 

Neither of them really sleep on their last night in Derry. They sit up all night talking, laughing, kissing and doing other things too. It’s not all merry, Richie sheds a tear out of exasperation, almost. He mourns over how much time they’ve lost but at this point Eddie has learnt that it’s no good to live in the past. For the first time ever, he’s excited for his future. Eddie tells him about how he never really stopped looking for him, even after forgetting. About how he saw a commercial for Richie’s show on TV once and felt some inexplicable tug, felt like he knew him, and had been taping them ever since. Richie talks about college, about feeling like he was lost but not knowing what he was looking for. About some sad new hookup every week - some guys, a few girls, none of them even close to Eddie. Looking back on it should feel painful but there’s a sense of detachment now. They’ve got each other now, it would be stupid to find yet another thing to be sad about, _dummy,_ Eddie promises as he runs a hand through Richie’s hair. So they play ‘What were you like?’. Richie asks Eddie what he was like at twenty, twenty five, thirty and Eddie asks him back. A finance major, _‘A stoner,’_ Richie replies with mock sincerity, a cab driver, a radio intern, yours, yours— 

“—I’m yours, Richie. Part of me feels like I always have been.” Eddie whispers.

Richie’s eyes are shut, glasses discarded on the bedside dresser and hair strewn out in a little halo on his pillow. He’s awake, though, he’s tracing patterns across Eddie’s back. He hums blissfully as Eddie turns to face him.

“Of course you’re mine.” He says, and then he grins— that stupid fucking grin that he wears exactly the same as he did all those years ago— and Eddie knows he’s about to say something stupid. He opens his eyes. “I’m like, practically your stepdad if you consider how much me and your mom were at it!” 

“Jesus Christ, Richie.” Eddie scoffs. “You’re so fucking disgusting sometimes.” He says with no malice at all.

“I didn’t hear you complaining about that when I—”

“—How is it that you still act like your thirteen years old? You’re literally a grown man.” He grumbles, turning to lie on his side again.

Richie pokes him on the back. “Come on, Eds. You love me really.” He teases.

He turns over once more, if only to cast Richie a sidelong glance. Richie just snickers and pokes him in the ribs instead. 

Eddie sighs. “Yeah, I really do.”

The next morning they’re all up bright and early. They all bid their teary farewells, with promises to catch up soon, to stay in touch no matter what. He watches as Ben’s car pulls out of the lot, Beverly riding shotgun. He and Rich are the only ones still in Derry. He turns to Richie, asks if he’s gonna tell him what they hell they’re still doing in town, but unsurprisingly he just shakes his head and tells him it’s a secret. Which is how he finds himself stood in front of an old and worn down patch of fencing atop the infamous kissing bridge, not even twenty minutes later.

“I never told you about what happened that day. When you found me passed out in the grass by that old statue.” Richie begins, looking out over the edge. So he tells him. About the arcade and Bowers and his ‘dirty little secret’. “I was so upset and confused and scared shitless… I just laid down and I must have drifted off, I guess. I don’t really remember. And then I remember waking up and seeing you stood peering right over me. You said—”

“—Thank God you’re not dead.” Eddie chuckles.

“Yeah, because if I died on you you’d kill me.” He smiles, a big, toothy one this time. “You were so fucking nice to me, Eds. You even bought me a little ice cream!”

“And they say chivalry is dead.”

“I mean it! Anyways, on the way home I stopped here. Did this.” He takes a couple steps forward and crouches down. Eddie follows him, and sees his fingers skit over a very faint, but also very big ‘R+E’ carved into the aging wood. He takes an old pocket knife out of his jacket, and hands it to Eddie. “I was wondering if you’d like to help me touch it up?” Eddie smiles, too.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Eddie is finally happy. _Really_ happy. He staying in California with Richie until his divorce gets sorted, and then they’re up and leaving for New York. Something as drastic a change as moving in with Richie might have scared him not too long ago, but now he craves it. Plus, he thinks it’s kinda sweet that he’s willing to just up and follow Eddie back home. It’s only been a week so far but he’s loving every minute of him. They’d both managed to get a bit of time off of work and so they spend their days doing the most typical and mundane grown up things. Sleeping late, going to the movies, going to restaurants, picking out furniture. It alls feel fun and exciting with Richie, though. Eddie wouldn’t have it any other way. And yeah, sure, they bicker, like always, but it’s all lighthearted. Eddie still can’t believe that Richie disabled all the fire alarms in his apartment just so he could smoke inside.

_(“I’m pretty sure that’s illegal. And really dumb, Richie. You’re too old to be smoking cigarettes, anyways.” _

__

__

_“Yeah and you’re too old to just be hitting 5’9, so bite me!”)_

Or that he doesn’t even know how to work his own oven. Then again, Eddie thinks it’s probably in Richie’s best interest considering the useless fire alarm situation. His divorce is messy and long, and he feels bad, truly, but he’s also spent well over the last decade of his life being miserable. He can’t take another minute. Which is why as soon as things settle, they leave. They get a roomy apartment on the other side of New York, and a dog too (called ‘Turtle’, of all things, Richie thought it’d be funny) and host a little loser get together/welcome party. It soon becomes a tradition, something they all clear their busy schedules for once every year without fail.

Eddie is truly at peace. He’s with the man he’s been in love with since they were both kids, and his best friends on the planet. He knows well enough that things could have ended much worse, that they were lucky to escape Derry with their lives, and he thanks his lucky stars that things fell into place the way they did.

**Author's Note:**

> if eddie had kissed richie he would still be alive in this essay i will-  
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━  
[playlist for this fic](https://open.spotify.com/user/eajnnr1g9yyibil2w7cqm3lwz/playlist/4XX9qaljrqUqUTFbpuLcbQ?si=1WRvqLmeRN6lXMQQsk7Dmg)  
[general richie and eddie playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/eajnnr1g9yyibil2w7cqm3lwz/playlist/1QpSa10cJPgLQtEAVRvnkG?si=am-RwqiITyaLlXug5h0xTQ)
> 
> anyways soz for any typos/formatting/grammar/tense/whatever issues i wrote this in a fit of delirium im going bonkers and also shout out to natalie i love you so much


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